he OathThe heavy rain over the Lagos lagoon had finally stopped by 6:00 AM, leaving behind a thick, golden morning mist that hung over the Apapa shipping container yard. The concrete docks were still wet, reflecting the bright white industrial floodlights that had witnessed the total annihilation of General Bello's international black-ops mercenaries just hours prior.Inside the harbor control office, the air smelled of strong local coffee and gunpowder.Adekunle stood in front of the glass window, wearing a fresh, crisp white dress shirt. His calloused hands were steady as he fastened his gold cufflinks. He looked down at the yard, where Sledge and his four hundred mainland street boys were busy washing the blood off the concrete, loading the captured mercenary weapons into the back of their new bulletproof G-Wagons."Chief pikin," Sledge said, walking into the office while adjusting his starched native cap. He let out a loud, victorious grin. "The port clean o! The five surviving foreign operators don dey inside our underground container vault, crying make we give them pure water. General Bello's network don scatter completely!""They didn't just fail, Sledge; they gave us the ultimate leverage," Adekunle murmured, his voice dropping into that chilling, corporate-kingpin register. He turned around, looking at his father.Chief Solomon sat in the leather armchair, completely unfazed by the sleepless night of warfare. He was dressed in his full, starched ceremonial military uniform—the one adorned with rows of real combat medals he had earned in the trenches of Liberia and the Borno Military University. His boots were polished so brightly they reflected the overhead lights. He looked like an untouchable god of war."Papa," Adekunle said, sliding a gold-plated fountain pen and a leather folder across the desk. "The presidential convoy is waiting at the main gate. The President has signed the clearance. In exactly two hours, you take the official oath of office as the Chief of Army Staff inside the capital."Chief Solomon picked up his golden-plated service pistol from the table, checked the magazine with a sharp, metallic CLACK, and slid it into his side holster. He stood up, his massive frame casting a long, imposing shadow over the office wall."They tried to use a viral TikTok video to erase my twenty years of blood and sacrifice," Chief Solomon growled, his deep voice making the glass windows vibrate with raw, unyielding authority. "They locked me inside Kirikiri prison, tarnished my name, and tried to replace me with an uneducated, ceremonial novice like Bello who only knows how to kiss political boots in air-conditioned rooms. But today, the entire ungrateful country will watch me take the crown. The President will hand me the staff of office with his own trembling hands."The office door opened, and Amina walked in. She was wearing a simple, beautiful local dress, her eyes clear and calm as she looked at her father. The fierce, terrifying General instantly softened, a proud, gentle smile replacing the cold mask on his face."Papa," Amina whispered, walking up to adjust the heavy gold epaulets on his shoulders. "The whole nation is watching the television right now. The independent podcast journalist you sponsored is broadcasting live outside the villa, telling the masses that the real shield of the country has returned. Promise me... no more war after today."Chief Solomon wrapped his massive military arm around his daughter, pulling his late wife's living image close to his chest. "My baby... today is not for war. Today is for absolute justice. Nobody can touch our house again."He turned his eyes toward Adekunle, his gaze full of profound, unspoken respect for the son who had used a 200-million-dollar maritime monopoly to checkmate the state. "Adekunle, tell Sledge to activate the convoy. We are driving straight into the presidential villa. It's time to sign the final script."
